Tea or Wine? (Frus vs USUK)
by skarlette12
Summary: England and France have a special game they like to play after every U.N meeting where they pick a nation and compete to see who can bed that nation first. They both decide on America for this round. England thinks he'll easily be able to get America in bed, but France was given a secret advantage and knows differently. (Frus vs. USUK)
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE:

England trudged out of the U.N. building feeling relieved it was over. He usually got at least something out of the meetings, but he really wasn't feeling it today. There had been the argument between him and Frogface, but that was completely normal. Nothing actually interesting had happened that day. It was all just so... boring.

"England, duuude!" England cringed at the loud, obnoxious voice that he knew all too well. He couldn't deal with him anymore today.

"England, where are you going?" America called out even louder as England sped his pace up. He knew it wasn't the thing a gentleman would do, but he had had enough. Hopefully, America would take a hint and go bother some other poor nation, probably Japan or What's-his-name. Once America started running up to him, England did the same and broke out into a full-on run.

After a few minutes of running away, England turned around and was pleased to see America was not there. "Hah, he must've given up!" He muttered triumphantly.

"Who gave up?' America asked between pants. England cursed under his breath and glanced over at the bane of his existence.

"America, I am not in the mood for your... unpleasantness... today." America completely ignored his comment.

"So, Iggy, what are our plans for today?"

"_We_ do not have any plans, but _I _plan on returning to my hotel," England said through gritted teeth.

"Don't you mean _my _hotel?" America said with a smirk. Every time there was a meeting at America's place, all the nations stayed at the same hotel in the exact same rooms they had had the last time. This was an issue for England because he was stuck with the room across from him being occupied by the one nation worse than America, France.

He could still remember the first time that he had stayed in that room. He had complained to America about the room situation, who simply chuckled and said "Thought it'd remind you of home. At least, that's what France said."

"Whatever you would like to call it!" England snapped. With that, he began to rush to the hotel. It wasn't that far, but every step felt like it took longer with America following and jabbering behind him.

Once he had finally reached the hotel, America had a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Does this mean I can't come with?" America asked. A glare from England answered his question, and he left soon after.

England sighed with relief and entered the tall white building. His eyes scanned the floor for an elevator and quickly found one. Normally, he would've taken the stairs- after all, he liked the exercise- but today he just felt too tired. He was also a bit afraid of being cornered by France in the middle of the stairway where no one could hear him scream.

He pressed the '3' button and waited for the doors to close. Tragedy struck when he saw France striding toward the elevator with a long feminine finger pointing straight at him.

"No, no, no, no!" England rapidly pressed the 'close door' button. He sighed with relief as the door closed, only to have that sigh turn into a high-pitched shriek as France's hand pried the doors back open and he trotted up next to him.

England groaned in misery. He just couldn't catch a damn break.

"What do you want with me, Frogface?" England was just so sick of interaction with any of the nations in that meeting room.

"You know _exactly _what I want."

England gaped at him with horror.

"What are you suggesting, you pig?" England asked wearily. He knew full well, but he hoped that maybe he could maybe distract him for a long enough time for them to reach their floor before anything that France intended to happen could happen.

"Our game, silly Angleterre!" France purred. "What were _you_ thinking?"

England's cheeks flushed bright red.

"O-of course! The game, I knew that." he insisted desperately. He couldn't have been more relieved that France was referring to their game and not something more perverse. Well, not to say that the game itself was not in its own way perverse.

"I know who I think our next challenge should be," he said with a smile that had England a bit concerned for whoever this might be.

"Well, go ahead and say it." England demanded, ready to hear.

"Now, don't immediately say no.."

"Bloody hell!"

"What? I haven't even said it yet!"

"We are not competing to get in Sealand's pants!"

France gave him a look of disgust. He covered his mouth and he turned a little green.

"What on Earth is wrong with you?"

"More like what's wrong with you! There is no way my brother is our next challenge!"

"No, no, England! That's not what I meant, I meant-"

"No, I know _exactly _what you mean! God, I knew you were disgusting but this is just awful!"

"For the love of all that is good, will you let me explain?"

"What? Explain how you're going to take Sealand's innocence?!" England was so disgusted by even the thought of France touching the little boy.

"I don't want to have sex with Sealand!" France blurted right as the elevator doors had begun to open, revealing a startled Finland, angry Sweden, and a clueless Sealand.

FInland was on the verge of tears as he backed away, putting Sealand behind him. Sweden stepped forward, a dark aura around him. Before the Swedish man could say a single word, France pushed the "close door" button so rapidly he jammed it and almost broke his finger.

"See what you've done? Now they're going to believe we're pedophiles and Sweden is going to kill me!" France whimpered.

"What I've done? You're the one who suggested the repulsive idea." England retorted.

"I wasn't talking about Sealand, where is your mind today? And the other nations call _me _a pervert..."

"If you weren't talking about Sealand, who did you mean? Who else would possibly bother me besides the ones we already said were off-limits?"

"Amérique."

_Disclaimer; We don't nor will we ever, own Hetalia. Hey guys, in case there's any confusion with this chapter, here is some clarification. If you didn't guess from above, the 'game' is who can have sex with the chosen nation first. As hinted above, there are a couple of nations that were initially agreed upon as off-limits. These include: Lichtenstein (because Switzerland would shoot someone, and she's so innocent), Italy, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. Sealand wasn't on the original list, because neither of them would ever even consider that. Most people write France as a pervert and a pedophile- this is NOT one of those fanfictions. We (the co-writers) both like France & England, hence the Frus and Usuk shippage. We are going to be uploading every four days during the summer. Our summer break will be lasting until the second of September. Once then, we will have to decide on a new schedule (If the story ends up being that long) By the way, this isn't a porno. It's rated T for suggestive themes, intense make-out sessions, implied sex, and mild cussing._


	2. Chapter Wine (1)

"America? Excuse me? EXCU-" England's angry holler was cut off by France.

"Let me explain! Think about it, he's one of the only nations we haven't made love with yet."

"With good reason!" England interrupted with a snort of disgust.

"Oi, let me finish! What I was trying to say was that Amérique is the perfect choice. After his Revolution-" England coughed up a bit of blood at the mention of it-"After that," France continued, "He cut all ties with you. Despite how you may have felt, he was not related by blood, and he has broken your brotherly bond. Therefore, he doesn't break any part of our agreement. If you feel that way though, well, he is mine to have. I win this round," France winked.

England was starting to consider it more than before, but a part of him was still screaming at him, telling him to suggest someone else, _anyone,_ just not America.

"I don't know about this, France..." England only called him France instead of a more derogatory term when he was serious.

"Come on, Angleterre, it will be a challenge! After all, you won last time. The loser should be able to pick at least." France knew that by bringing up England's former victory, he might be able to push him toward the idea a little more.

"I guess that's fair," England was very hesitant about this whole thing. "Won't it be easy to get with America though? It'll probably so easy that all we'll have to do is buy him burgers and video games."

France smirked as if he knew something England didn't- and he did. France had been thinking about choosing America for awhile, but he had wanted to see what he was in for before hand. After easy observation, he knew that America deserved more faith than England was giving him at that moment when it came to sex.

"Ah, if you say so. Does that mean it's a 'yes'?" France asked even though he already knew the answer.

"What do I have to lose? Deal."

~~~~~~~CH. WINE~~~~~~

Immediately after England agreed, France rushed out of the building. He couldn't stop smiling. After all, he knew he would win. England had greatly underestimated America. He thought he was just going to be some easy lay, but France knew different. A few days before the U.N meeting, he had caught up with Canada. Canada had been exhausted from listening to America rant the night before about how he was just so lonely and wanted a companion.

Canada began complaining about how "America has it great and has no idea what it is like to be alone!" Honestly, France didn't listen to most of what Canada was saying after the first part. He had found a way to beat England and it excited him so much he didn't really care what Canada had to say. Canada seemed to notice it pretty quickly because he ended up sighing and walking away.

France was pretty lucky when it came to finding America. Since there's a McDonald's right across the street, he was pretty sure that's where America would be. He didn't really have anything to do right now, so France suspected he'd be eating.

Sure enough, America was sitting in the poorly air-conditioned McDonald's gulping down burgers by the bagful, as fellow customers watched with mouths agape and the workers looked on with poorly veiled amusement at their favorite customer.

"That's absolutely disgusting," France scoffed, catching America's attention. His rude comment toward the food earned a few glares from workers.

"What are you doing in here? You hate McDonald's." America looked pretty confused, and he had good reason. France and him weren't exactly buddies- but they talked occasionally and when they did, France would complain about his awful eating habit and greasy food.

"I felt like having a heart attack today," France said with a smirk. He immediately regretted it. Wasn't he trying to win America over? To France's surprise, America seemed to enjoy his comment. Or perhaps he just wanted some form of conversation. America tried to hide a chuckle with a cough. America couldn't help but think he sounded just like England when he talked like that.

"Want a burger?" America offered. On most days, France probably would've taken it and thrown it away, but he had a job to do today. America looked pretty shocked when France plopped down next to him and started to eat the burgers at a rate slower than America's, but faster than most.

It was all France could do to actually swallow the greasy pile of "meat" and old bread that they called a burger. "You okay dude?" America asked when he saw France's face. France nodded queasily

"Uh, you don't look so good.." America said, a little concerned for his newly washed jacket. France shook his head.

"No, no, Amérique, I'm fine." A few of the guys working there were starting to mumble about how there was no way in hell they were going to clean up puke.

"Hey man, maybe you should take your buddy outside!" the manager said, trying to keep a polite tone because America was such a valued customer but unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. France was about to protest, but the rumbling in his stomach shut him up pretty quickly. America grabbed his upper arm and dragged him out of the McDonald's.

France expected America to jump away from him when he started throwing up violently on the sidewalk, but instead he awkwardly held his hair back from his face. America was a surprisingly nice guy at times. Once France had finished throwing up, America alerted the manager that there was some puke on the sidewalk. Needless to say, he wasn't that happy.

As they sat on the bench outside and watched a poor worker cleaning up the puke that they both refused to clean, America started to speak,

"You know you didn't have to eat all those burgers, right? It was polite to try, but I know you Europeans can't exactly handle the grease." France shrugged.

"It wasn't _that _bad," he lied. America raised an unbelieving eyebrow at him.

"Okay, fine, it tasted like I was eating a deep-fryer." America snorted out laughter at France's comment.

"It was pretty cool of you to try. England can't even look at the burgers without gagging," America said, attempting to hold back a smile. This time it was France's turn to laugh.

"That's ironic considering nobody can stomach Angleterre's awful slop."

The two spent the rest of the day making cracks about England's cooking while the poor worker shoveled France's puke into a bucket.

"Thanks Richard!" America exclaimed with a toothy grin to the tired worker once he had finished. The worker said nothing, but shot France a nasty glare.

"No problem, Alfred," he grumbled. He offered America a fake smile before heading back inside the restaurant.

"Don't take this the wrong way, 'cause this has been awesome- but why did you come over here? You don't exactly hangout with me very often," America asked curiously. France considered his response for a moment.

"Well, we are friends, aren't we?" he replied, knowing full well that America wouldn't say no even if it wasn't true. America hesitated a second too long before responding.

"Uhh, yeah dude!" he laughed uncomfortably. He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet.

In need of a new topic before it became an awkward silence, France asked for the time. America glanced at his phone. He thought for a second before responding.

"Time to leave before we're asked to," he replied with a pointed look at the wary faces of RIchard and his coworkers in the windows. France didn't protest, actually feeling quite relieved at leaving behind the sickening smell of McDonalds that invaded all the air within a block of the place.

The two decided to just walk around the downtown area for awhile. France almost forgot about the game. It wasn't like he felt bad or anything, he just was actually enjoying himself. He always figured that the younger nation would drive him nuts, being all about American movies and video games. He wasn't that bad. In fact, he wasn't bad at all. A little naive and childish, yes, but that's partially what made him so fun to be around. He was such a dumbass that it made France feel less stupid for acting so flamboyant and ridiculous and hey, that was pretty nice.


	3. Chapter Tea (2)

CH. TEA

England was not as enthusiastic to start the game as France was for a few reasons. For one, he definitely did not enjoy the idea of flirting with America, let alone having sex with him. Another thing was he knew France was probably already out there with America. He saw how fast he had run out of the building. This had already put him on guard because he had seen on numerous occasions how quickly France worked, the clever bastard. So instead of interrupting France's work, he decided he would spend the day planning. He wrote down several ideas in a spiral notebook. Everything he wrote down was incredibly predictable; bring him to a game store and buy him some games, play the games, watch some stupid scary movie, then sex. He thought this would be the easiest challenge France and he had ever had.

The next day, England didn't have to look very hard to find America. In fact, all he had to do was go outside his hotel room and look across.

"America, why are you waiting by France's door?" England said, feigning shock. He was actually quite pissed. Had France _already _bedded America?

"Oh, I told him I'd watch a movie with him at noon," he responded with a cheesy grin. "It's that new comedy I've been trying to get you to watch with me." England glared at him violently. Oh, so since he wouldn't go he picks France instead? He invites his worst enemy?

"No," England said, a large, unnatural smile frozen on his face.

"Er... what?" asked America, hoping he had heard him wrong and slightly concerned with the "smile" on England's face. He had never seen such a strained, tense grin on the man's face. Usually if England was irritated he wouldn't even attempt to hide it, just scowl and argue with whoever had been unlucky enough to anger him.

"No."

"Uh, I'm not quite following..." America looked very confused.

"How about you go with me instead? I was planning on going anyway," England lied through his teeth.

"Sorry, but I kind of already promised Fra-"

"No. Let's go," England insisted, the forced smile back on his face.

America looked a little too scared to argue. Before they left, he hesitated, glancing back at France's door.

"Can I at least leave France a note?" America asked, feeling guilty for ditching his new friend.

"No, we'll miss the movie. Let's just tell him later." England was frustrated with how much America already enjoyed France's company. He'd barely spoken to him before yesterday! Before America could argue anymore, England dragged him downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~Wine cut scene~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France had woken up early that morning, and walked around New York for a couple hours, just to get ideas for places to go with America. Usually when he was in New York, he would go to the world meeting and then immediately head home. He had never really taken the time to look around the city that America loved so much. He was slowly starting to understand why America liked it- it basically represented everything he was. Upbeat, entertaining, and full of surprises. After a few hours, he had checked the time to see that it was almost time for him to meet America at the hotel. Before he headed back, he decided he would stop at the McDonalds nearby to pick up some food for America. Knowing AMerica, he would be as hungry as always, and wasn't it always said the quickest way to someone's heart is through food?

He walked into the McDonalds, and the workers stifled groans at the unwelcome sight of the puking man from the day before.

"Hello, how I may I take your order?" the cashier asked, struggling to keep the smile on his face.

"Do you remember the man I came in with yesterday? Alfred?" France asked. The man sighed. He just wanted the Frenchman to order as quickly as possible and get out of the restaurant before he puked again.

"Of course. He's our most frequent customer. He always orders the same thing," he answered shortly.

"Then I would like to order what he always does," France said. The cashier grinned the first honest smile he had had since noticing the man.

"Good luck paying for that," the man muttered under his breath, a smirk on his quickly typed out a long list of food on the register.

Another worker glanced at the order, and then scanned the restaurant. "That's Al's order, so where is he? Don't tell me someone else ordered this."

France paled as he looked at the list. It was now evident to him that America had been nearly finished with his meal when he had come in, not just beginning to eat as France had assumed. No wonder the workers remembered him so well.

Since the order was so large, it took him far longer than he had expected to get it, making him late to meet America.

After receiving the order, he rushed out of the restaurant, arms loaded with bags of food, and into the hotel. However, just as he arrived, England body-checked him, causing him to drop looked back, an apology on his lips that died when he saw France. A triumphant smirk crossed his face as he met his eyes. France glared sullenly back at him, only then noticing the American in tow. America hadn't even realized that they had bumped into someone, let alone the person he was supposed to be going to the theatre with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End of Wine Cutscene~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Two tickets for _A Million Ways to Die in the West_, please," England said, relieved they had finally arrived. America had been reluctant to ditch France and had been attempting to break free from England's grasp. As small as he was (in comparison to America, at least), he had an iron grip when he needed it.

As soon as he had paid for the tickets, America dragged him into the theater, breezing by all the other moviegoers and earning more than one dirty look. Once they had settled into their seats, England realized something. He had absolutely no idea what this movie was about. All he knew was that it was a comedy. This was a mistake he came to regret as the movie progressed.

England cringed as America laughed so hard that almost the entire theater shushed him. The jokes that absolutely mortified him had America almost in tears.

"Bloody hell," England muttered in disgust when the female protagonist stuck a daisy in her unconscious husband's rear. America snorted loudly.

The only good thing about the experience was that America was enjoying himself, even if England vowed never to sit in the front row of a movie with him ever again. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad in the back row, where no one could see England trying to suffocate himself with the seat cushion so he wouldn't have to face all the other viewers after the movie ended.

England had never been more happy for a movie to end.

"America, let's go.. please," he begged. The other people who had attended the movie were speaking to a manager who just so happened to be looking in their direction.

"Don't you wanna hang out here for a bit? I mean, they have unlimited drink refills and that's pretty damn coo-"

"No, America, I don't." The insistent look on England's face said it all.

"Okay, okay, let's go then." America pouted. It took a great amount of effort for England not to scream at him.

England was eager to get on to the next phase of his "first date" (even though America didn't know it was a date) plan. Video games.

"What's the name of that one video store you're always visiting and wasting money on movies and games? The rental one," England asked.

"Dude, you gotta be more specific than that," America started laughing at himself. England didn't join in.

"Whichever one, let's just go." America looked confused by this, but didn't question it.

"What?" England questioned. He looked kind of annoyed. Didn't America love video games?

"Well..." America coughed and rubbed his neck in an awkward manner, "You're always telling me how much you hate those games and stuff. And didn't we just see a movie?" England hesitated a little.

"Er, well, I.." he pondered for a second, trying to think of a reason. "Friends.. play games together.. right?" he struggled not to choke on the word 'friends'.

America shrugged and mumbled, "I guess." He gave England a strange look. He hadn't known what to expect when England barged into his day plans , but he didn't think England would want to play video games or watch movies with him, let alone both in one day.

An awkward silence began to grow and England realized this wasn't exactly going the way he had planned. America seemed quite uncomfortable, which was out of the usual for him. Had England not done everything right? He sat through an awful movie with crude jokes and now he was going to play video games with him! Was that _not_ the way to woo America? Either way, he had to quickly break this awkwardness before things went down hill.

"Come on... dude," England kind of mumbled the last word. It felt odd and silly coming out of his mouth. Apparently America agreed, because he was stifling eyes widened slightly and he covered his mouth before he could laugh at England.

"I know you're trying to be nice, but you sound like a fourteen year-old boy when you say 'dude'," America had failed to hold back the laughter after his comment.

"Excuse me? You say it all the time!" England stuttered out.

"Yeah, but you're _England_," America's face was bright red from laughing at England and he had a certain emphasis on England's name that he did not appreciate.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, trying not to show his anger, but failing miserably.

"It means you're all superior-acting and stuck up, you know, correcting my grammar and sipping your tea with a pinky up in the air. You know, like you're all that," America chuckled. England sputtered before protesting.

"I do NOT hold my pinky up when I drink!" he snapped. America shrugged.

"Whatever you say, man." England chose not to continue this conversation and just began walking towards the store he had seen America enter a number of times..

"Hey, where are you going?" America called out from the spot he had not moved an inch from.

"To get video games."

-LATER-

England regretted getting the games just as much as he had regretted watching that god awful movie. America was mauling him in every single one!

"How often do you play these to have mastered them so well?" England asked, frustrated with being killed for the eleventh time in only fifteen minutes.

"Never. I've never played this game before in my life," America responded flatly, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"How are you so easily beating me then?" England hissed.

For the first time since they'd put the game in, America set the controller on the ground and turned to look at England.

"You suck at it." He said without even a hint of malice or taunting lilt to his voice. To him, it was just a simple fact. With that comment, he picked the controller back up and continued to mash the 'B' button. England sighed.

"America, we've been playing this game for awhile now. How about we do something else?"

"Like what?" America asked.

"Well, we do have that movie I picked out.." It was taking all of England's willpower to not smile deviously. He knew he could _easily _get America in bed with the movie he picked out. After all, wasn't Japan always saying that America slept with him after every scary movie?

America nervously looked at the movie. "Isn't it kind of scary, though?" he said in a quiet voice. England nodded, thinking America knew what he was getting at.

"I guess so.." he sounded kind of shocked. "But don't you hate scary movies?" England shrugged and put the movie into America's movie-player. He already knew this movie was going to be awful. _Insidious_ was supposed to be about demons or whatever. How is that scary? It's not real. England had met enough magical creatures to know that there was no such thing as demons, or at least not in the sense that America's movie industry loved to portray.

Within the first half-hour of the movie, both America and England were shrieking and cowering into the couch next to each other. America was desperately clinging to England in fear, but England was too scared himself to care or take advantage of the situation for the game.

"NO, LITTLE BOY, NO!" England screeched at the television.

"RUN! RUUUUUN!" America joined in. The boy obviously couldn't hear them, and fell into the most obvious of traps despite their warnings.

As the end drew closer, England suddenly remembered what he was here to do. He inched a little closer to America, but America took that as a sign of fear and handed him a pillow, thus adding more distance between them than before.

"A pillow?" he whispered.

"Yeah. To hide your face in!" he said quietly, so he wouldn't drown out the sound of the movie, even though there was no chance of that with all the screaming going on. England slammed his face into the pillow, but not for the reasons America was thinking.

Eventually the movie ended, and it was already pitch-black outside by that time. This was it. This was when he would win! England mentally patted himself on the back for putting up with so many problems throughout the day without exploding and for everything going according to plan.

"So what now, America?" he tried to purr it seductively like France, but it came out sounding like he was constipated.

"You okay, dude?" America asked, edging away.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he muttered.

"I guess you should probably get going. It's kind of dark," America told him. England looked at him shocked. _What? But Japan said..._

"I suppose so. Goodnight, America."

"G'night, England."

England's hand had just reached the silver-colored doorknob when America spoke,

"Actually... do you think you could maybe.. stay?" England smirked, but quickly wiped the look off his face before turning to look at him with an innocent expression. _Here we go! _

"Of course!" before America could speak again, England grabbed his wrist and dragged him up to the bedroom.

"Huh, Japan must have told you then," America said, looking slightly embarrassed and irritated. England didn't answer, just threw America onto the bed.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" America yelped once England began to unbutton his shirt.

"Uhm. What do you think?" England snorted. America's eyes widened.

"Wha- no! NO! I don't want to have sex with you!" he shrieked. This silenced England and he stopped unbuttoning his shirt. America covered his face and continued to whisper "no" under his breath.

"Why the bloody hell did you ask me to stay with you then? Don't you and Japan always do it after scary movies?" England asked, not quite sure what was happening.

"No! We don't 'do it' after scary movies! What the hell?!" America's voice was high-pitched out of pure embarrassment and was muffled slightly by the pillow.

"But Japan said you slept with him after every scary mo-" England stopped. This time it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

"Oh.. _oooohh..." _ he suddenly realized what kind of 'slept with' Japan had meant.

"Japan and I have never done anything like that. I'm just scared, you idiot!" America's face matched a tomato right then, and England was pretty sure his did too. An awkward silence filled the room until England cleared his throat and began to speak again,

"Does this mean I should put my shirt back on?"

An uncomfortable nod was all England received as a response. Once his shirt was fixed, he began to walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?" America sputtered out.

"Home?" England said it more like a question than an answer.

"I'm still scared.." America sheepishly looked away.

"I..I guess I can stay then."

He awkwardly walked over to the bed. America shook his head.

"No, wait, can you take the floor?" It wasn't really a request so much as an order. England gave a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I'll sleep on your filthy floor."

He sat down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling that was covered in glow stars. Into the uncomfortable silence he muttered "sorry".

"Um...no problem, I guess?" America muttered

England was woken the next day by America's loud snoring. England peeked over at him.

Although his snores were atrocious and sounded like a grizzly bear, his face looked young and innocent. He reminded England of the little boy that used to sit on his lap while he told him stories and nursery rhymes. For a second, he felt a stinging feeling in his stomach. He had never imagined that he'd be trying to have sex with that little boy. His stomach turned at the thought.

_In case you guys didn't understand the bit about Japan, here's what happened- At one meeting, Japan showed up completely exhausted . England asked him about it and he explained that he had seen a scary movie with America, and then America, as usual, wanted him to sleep with him. England misinterpreted what he had said, causing the awkward moment written above xD._

_And yeah, the movie "A Million Ways To Die In the West" hasn't been in theaters for quite a long time but we couldn't help but pick the movie with the crude humor America would love and England would despise. We''ll update again in a couple of days. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter Wine (3)

CH. WINE (2)

Since England had rudely stolen America from their movie the day before, France had spent his day trying to think of something America liked even more than movies. He had to make up for whatever England had done. He eventually decided on something a bit odd. The zoo. To be specific, Central Park Zoo.

He woke up pretty early that day to make sure he could beat England to America's house. At least, that's what he was hoping.

France was not pleased to find that America had not opened the door to his own house, but instead a disheveled England.

"What are you doing here, rosbif?" France snapped.

"I could ask you the same thing," England replied coldly.

"I'm here to see America, thank you very much." France was beginning to wonder if England had stayed the night before. After all, he had woken up quite early that day and did not happen to see England leave the hotel that morning or return the night before.

"I was just about to leave, but now I'm debating on whether or not I should," England told him.

Before France could respond, he noticed America walking down the stairs yawning.

"Hey, Amérique!" France called out and leaned over so America could see him from behind England.

A relieved look reached America's face. _What did England do? _

"Oh, hey France, come on in," America invited.

"Actually, I was thinking you'd like to join me on a trip to the zoo," France offered a dashing grin.

"Sweet!" America exclaimed. He then shot England a nervous glance.

"Er... would you.. um.. like to join?" he politely asked. It seemed more like a pity invite than anything else. France was relieved. There was no way America and England did anything last night with how distant America was acting.

Right as England looked like he was considering it, France jumped in, "Oh, I'm so sorry dear Angleterre, but I'm afraid I only have two tickets." England raised an obnoxiously thick eyebrow.

"Can't I just buy another once we're there? Besides, how did you already get tick-"

"Oh my, look at the time! Let's go, Amérique." America gave him a confused look.

"But the zoo doesn't open unti-" he was cut off by France looping his arm through his and dragging him out the door.

"Why is everyone so grabby lately?" America complained. France ignored him and flagged down a taxi.

Instead of giving America personal space, France sat directly in the middle seat, brushing him up against America. America didn't seem to notice.

"France, I have a question," America said warily.

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong with England? Has he been acting... strange.. lately?" America asked.

France gave him a fake shrug.

"I haven't noticed a thing, Amérique, but Angleterre has always been a strange little island nation," he lied. America just nodded in agreement and said nothing more on the topic.

Once they arrived at the zoo, America completely forgot about whatever England had done the night before. He immediately began to act like a child trying ice cream for the first time.

"Where do you wanna go first? I wanna see the eagles and the penguins and the pandas and the..." America spoke so rapidly that France could hardly understand him.

"What do _you_ want to see first?" France asked, peering at the map of the zoo.

America paused in his monologue and glanced down at France's face. He thought for a minute then closed his eyes. France looked at him with curiosity. Was this some weird American way of choosing? The explanation France received was America slamming his pointer finger down on a random place on the map.

He opened his eyes and laughed happily when he saw the irony. The Bald Eagle. On their way over to the habitat, France was continuing what he had been doing in the cab. Standing a bit too close to America. Yet again, America was too dense to even notice.

A proud look was plastered onto America's face as he gazed upon his Nation's bird. France could have sworn he saw a gleam of recognition in the eagle's yellow eye. France himself couldn't help but smile at America's expression. He quickly turned away and looked back at the Eagle when America noticed. It was just so odd. He had never seen America look at something like that.

"What's next on the agenda?" America asked, not wanting to linger. He was determined to see every animal in that zoo.

"You pick again."

"Nah, dude, I already picked! Now it's your turn!" America handed him the map with a smile. France gratefully took the map and imitated what America had done to choose earlier.

His result was the petting zoo.

The petting zoo itself wasn't very large and it didn't have a variety of animals- but it was pretty damn fun. America and France couldn't get over the softness of the sheep. I

"Its fur is so ratty looking.. how is it soft?" France asked the question like knowing the answer could end world hunger. The sheep actually did look kind of nasty. It's fur was all knotty and coated in dirt and old dung, to the point where it's once-white fur was now an ugly brown.

"We now have sheep feces on our hands," France said with disgust. America laughed and jokingly acted like he was going to wipe his hands on France's coat. Out of instinct, France jerked and ended up with America actually wiping it on his jaw. France stood there silently for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. America's mouth dropped open.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry," he stuttered out. France opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again and shaking his head slightly. America, in an attempt to make France feel better, took his clean hand, wiped the feces off of France's face, and smeared it onto his own.

"See? Now we both have sheep shit on us!" he declared loudly, only to have a few angry mothers shush him and begin to move their children to another section.

Instead of being normal nations and going to the bathroom to clean the feces off, they continued to walk around the petting zoo for a little longer. That is, until they came across the donkeys.

"A spotted ass?" France read the title on the stables out loud. The brown and white-splotched donkeys were occupying a corner of the petting zoo. One of the donkeys trotted up to the fence happily and stood by it sideways, waiting for the usual petting it would receive. America leaned over the fence and began to pet it.

"This ass is surprisingly soft," America snickered.

"I want to touch the ass too!" France joined in on America's little joke.

"Touch the ass with me, France." The two were getting some very furious looks from nearby parents.

The donkey looked so content, if only it could understand what they were saying... It's eyes drifted closed and it rubbed its head against their hands.

"The ass is quite furry, don't you agree?" France was letting his inner immaturity come out at that moment.

"Hey, you two, knock it off!" a zoo employee called over from the chicken pen.

"I'd say that you're being quite an _ass, _but you don't act anything like this little guy!" America said, gesturing towards the donkey.

"Seriously, last warning," the man growled.

"You know, Bill, you're being very ASSertive today! Usually you're the quiet type."

And with that, their little venture to the petting zoo ended rather abruptly and their walk to the bathroom began.

"We should probably wash the ass off our hands.." America said, holding back a smile. That's when the two absolutely lost it. Both of them were on the floor, covered in sheep feces, clutching their stomachs laughing. Like France's first day with America, he completely forgot about the game. Little tears were forming in the corners of their eyes from laughing so hard.

Once they both regained their ability to breath, they continued onward to the bathroom.

"Before we wash up, maybe we should hit a few more exhibits?" France suggested. America didn't protest and they went on to the primate one.

There were about seven monkeys dangling from the top of their cage. There was a line that had, "WARNING: SPLASH ZONE" written all over it, but the two didn't pay any attention and ran right up to the cage.

"Oh, gross, that one in the corner is peeing!" America snorted and pointed. France started giggling at it.

"Hey, it's coming over here." The monkey began to swing over while continuing to urinate. Because it was swinging, some of the urine was being projectiled over to them. That's when the "SPLASH ZONE" warning would've come in handy for them to have read. America saw it coming before it happened and leaped back, leaving France in the line of fire.

France repeated his actions earlier by standing there in horror of what had just happened to his poor. beautiful face.

"Hey, buddy, you got a little something on your face.." America started, laughing so hard he snorted. His laugh turned into a shriek as a monkey decided that he deserved something too and flung its feces at him.

This time, it was France's turn to laugh. America tried to hold the glare on his face, but couldn't help it.

"Maybe it's time we go wash up now, don't you think?" America offered with a smile. France nodded in agreement.

The cab ride back to America's was absolutely disgusting. The poor taxi driver was trying not to gag at the awful smell. It was even worse smelling for America and France. They basically had to sit in their own stench. So needless to say, both were quite relieved when America's house showed up.

"There's a shower in the basement you can use, if you want. Sorry, I only have one upstairs," America told France as he was unlocking the door.

"As I do not want to return to my hotel room reeking, I think I'll take you up on that offer."

America opened his mouth, probably about to say something witty, but closed it. France's eyes wandered over to what had shut America up.

"Oh, good evening," England said from his seat on the couch where he was nestled with some tea and a burnt crisp that France could only assume was supposed to be a scone.

"...England, why are you still here?" America finally asked after an awkward pause, during which he had expected England to at least offer up some excuse but was denied any sort of explanation.

"I wanted to apologize again for last night, so I decided to surprise you with scones," England said, offering a plate of charred food towards him. America chuckled uneasily and set the plate aside, careful not to touch a single scone.

"That's a nice gesture, England, but maybe we should have this conversation some other time," America tried to be as polite as possible. England's face tinted pink.

"Er, yeah, of course.."England glanced down, then up, giving America a strange look.

"Before I leave, can you enlighten me on whatever that is on your face?" England asked. America's eyes met France's as he responded, keeping a deadpan expression.

"We got shitfaced." England's eyes widened.

"Isn't the drinking age in your country twenty-one? If I'm remembering correctly, your human age is only nineteen?" England questioned. France was snickering.

"Yes, but we did not drink. We got shitfaced." England's gargantuan eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what America had said. He grimaced at the sound of France's obnoxious laughter.

"Ah, I see that I'm not going to get a formal response here. That must be my cue to leave," England stood up and dropped the blanket he had stolen from America's room onto the couch.

"Good day to you.. gentlemen.." the two could see him struggle as he forced out the last word.

Neither said a word, just watched him leave.

"That was incredibly weird," America commented after the door slammed shut. France jumped a little when the loud noise echoed through the house.

"He seemed kind of angry," France said.

"I did just kind of tell him to leave while he was apologizing," America glanced down at the floor with guilt.

"What was he apologizing for, anyway?" France asked. America debated on whether or not to tell him for a second. After a moment of silence, he remembered that despite how freaky England had been acting, the last thing he would want would be for America to tell anyone, _especially not France. _

"Oh, it was nothing. He just broke one of my games," America lied, not looking France in the eye. France knew he was lying, but decided not to push it.

"Um...so, the stairs are here, when you go down the shower is in the first room on the left," America said, leading him over to the stairs. France nodded, and was just about to go down when America stopped him.

"Wait, do you have any spare clothes on you? I can bring you down some clothes from my room if you need them." America offered. After France told him that no, he actually hadn't planned ahead for getting animal waste all over his clothes, America went upstairs and grabbed his smallest pair of sweatpants and a Marvel t-shirt that was probably much too big for France.

As France was walking down the stone stairs, he smiled a little to himself. The day actually had been pretty fun, even if he did happen to have sheep and monkey waste all over him.


End file.
